


Belly

by Nny



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-10 01:06:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nny/pseuds/Nny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney is secretly gleeful that Sheppard has a belly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Belly

Rodney is secretly gleeful that Sheppard has a belly. 

He doesn't think military when he looks at him any more. Well alright, yes, _sometimes_ , when there are arrows or bullets or spears or _lasers_ and Sheppard does the narrow-eyed squinty gun thing, which - is that supposed to help him see better? Rodney's no scientist but - oh wait, no, actually he is; smartest man in two galaxies and surface area equations and that's beside the point. The point is when there are lasers or arrows or - alright, no, not lasers. Even through the military disguise there's that moment of Sheppard's smile and _lasers_ and _way cool_. And the fact that Sheppard generally turns to _him_ to share that moment kind of makes up for the whole high school experience, but that's not the point either. 

"McKay?"

Rodney lifts his head - which seems heavier than usual - and squints across the low flickering fire at Sheppard, train of thought temporarily derailed. 

"Mm?"

"You okay there, buddy?"

"Mm," he says eloquently, and waves a vague hand. 

"No it's okay," he hears, from across the fire and a mile away, "I've got it. You go get some sleep -" but he's not really listening. 

When he thinks of military, see, he thinks of - well Atlantis is difficult. Because Lorne makes jokes and paints pictures and Sheppard is a practitioner of Hair Origami and Cadman tapdances and defuses bombs but then there's Caldwell. Caldwell makes it easy and puts it in black and white (like his shiny, shiny head) and does the whole marching thing. Or at least standing upright, which is more than Sheppard can manage. With Caldwell he thinks military and rules and fitness and Don't Ask, Don't Tell, where with Sheppard there's complications like golf swings and bellies.

~*~

Rodney is secretly gleeful that Sheppard has a belly, but he would never tell him.

Partly because of some weird superstitious karmic retribution thing that he doesn't believe in at all, of course. Except where it seems to be true. Because Rodney McKay doesn't get what he wants, this is how the world works, symbolised neatly - _encapsulated_ if you will - by a beautiful woman who doesn't want him taking away the ZPM which he _does_. The beautiful woman aspect is confusing, of course, in that way where he carried a torch for Samantha Carter for years and then came to Atlantis where torches are obsolete and the whole _city_ lights up around Sheppard. 

It's also partly because he knows that Sheppard wouldn't hit him for it, wouldn't disown him or throw him off the team or steal his underwear and find a flagpole specifically to hang it from or shut him in a locker until he's hyperventilating and pleading to be let out and leave him there for the janitor to find - 

\- he knows that Sheppard wouldn't do that but he's not sure the man could resist teasing. When it's unimportant and he doesn't care he can snap back insults that can draw blood at five paces but there are architecturally unsound spaces in the walls he's built around himself which - the price of being close to people is that they get the blueprints. Jeannie can still make him red and flustered and he hates _nothing_ more than feeling stupid, and somewhere between Antarctica and Atlantis and this moment right here he started noticing little things like Sheppard's muppet laugh and his weird pointy ears and the way his belly stretches out the black T-shirts he wears and he figures that John's not only got the blueprints, Rodney's handed over a sledgehammer to go with them. 

"C'mon, McKay, up and at 'em."

He turns his head and there's Sheppard's face, right there, right next to him, and he can't help the stupid grin that's directly attached to the weird fizzing in his stomach. 

"Hey," he says. 

"Hey," Sheppard says back, hauling him to his feet, and possibly he's a little more lopsided than he strictly needs to be because that way he can rest against lean hard Sheppard with his secret unmilitary belly.

~*~

Rodney is secretly gleeful that Sheppard has a belly, but he would never tell him. Unless...

There was this thing where his genius was acknowledged, see. It really doesn't happen as often as it ought to, in his opinion, which he's almost certain he remembers telling people earlier, and there must have been alcohol because mostly they looked sort of benevolently indulgent instead of annoyed and exasperated and other polysyllabic words; Elizabeth's the one to go to for synonyms, except she's back home on Atlantis. He's a _scientist_ , which means he's on an off world team, which means campfires and this time a distinct lack of lasers and Sheppard raising a glass to him, which along with the benevolence and lack of insults suggests alcohol, which might go some way towards explaining why he's having such trouble walking in a straight line; they seem to be steering themselves into a wall. 

Or not into. _Against_. 

Huh. 

"You're driving me crazy, McKay."

Sheppard's leaning against him, softnesses and hardnesses and heatnesses and the cold wall behind him makes him arch forward a little and Sheppard's soft groan feathers the hair just behind his ear and he would never tell him _unless_ there was alcohol and moonlight and Sheppard - _John's_ soft voice in his ear. 

So when John tells him he's been staring all night, that he's driving John to distraction with it - except he uses smaller words than that because he likes to pretend he doesn't have a brain - when John asks him what the hell it is he kept looking at, if maybe (and Rodney's convinced there's a secret unmilitary _please_ hidden somewhere in there) John's not alone in this - 

Rodney slides his hands around John's waist, where he's pretty sure he's allowed to touch now, and presses his stupid grin against the stubbled skin of his jaw. 

"Belly," he mutters - soft and indistinct, lips catching on John's skin - as if it's the answer to everything.


End file.
